


(voices tell) From the Past

by fandomlver



Category: The Musketeers (2014)
Genre: Abuse, I Tagged for Rape, Other, Psychological Torture, it's not explicit, kink meme fill
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-27
Updated: 2015-07-03
Packaged: 2018-04-06 10:41:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,206
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4218633
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fandomlver/pseuds/fandomlver
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kinkmeme fill, see end for prompt. A routine escort mission turns into something much worse for d'Artagnan.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Sometimes d'Artagnan skips Mass.

They usually go together, the Inseparables; Athos mouthing along dutifully, Porthos occasionally stumbling over the Latin but mostly keeping up, Aramis listening intently to every word. d'Artagnan himself starts a countdown as soon as the ceremony starts and concentrates on it to get through.

Some weeks, though, he can’t face keeping up the charade. He invents emergencies at the Bonacieux house, important errands, tells them he went earlier or will go later. They’ve mostly stopped questioning him about it, though Aramis occasionally reminds him how important it is to go.

d'Artagnan smiles and nods and leaves the conversation as quickly as possible. Aramis’ faith is his own business, but he wishes he wouldn’t push it on him.

He’s skipped again – hasn’t gone near the Inseparables all day, can’t bear the thought of it; anniversaries are always bad – and Athos looks up at him as soon as he enters the garrison the next morning. “We have a mission.”

“Oh? What is it?”

“Don’t know yet, we were waiting for you.” He waves d'Artagnan towards the stairs, whistling for Porthos and Aramis where they’re sparring by the stable.

Treville glances up as they come into the office. “Nice of you to join us.”

“My apologies, Captain,” d'Artagnan says.

He sighs. “The Cardinal has a priest he needs escorted to a monastery in the south of the country. You four will take him.”

Athos nods. “Where is he?”

“Waiting at the Cardinal’s office. Supply yourselves for the journey and then pick him up there.”

“Who are we looking for?”

Treville picks up a parchment, studying it before passing it to Aramis. “Fr Pierre Reynard.”

d'Artagnan stops breathing. He stops hearing anything they’re saying. The next thing he’s aware of is Porthos steering him out of the room.

They stop on the balcony and Athos studies d'Artagnan. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” He shakes his head at Athos’ look. “Nothing. I’m sorry. I didn’t sleep well. I’ll get a drink, I’ll be fine.”

“If you’re ill, you don’t have to come.”

He almost jumps on the opportunity, but they’d just worry about him, and really, what are the chances this is the same man? “I’m fine. I just didn’t sleep well.”

“You’re certain?”

He nods firmly. “Certain.”

“Good. Go and get some rations from Serge, and eat something while you’re there. We’ll take care of the horses.”

d'Artagnan goes, accepts the bread Serge shoves at him and nibbles unenthusiastically at it. Serge gets the rations ready and he takes them to the stables, gets them packed away. The others are busy preparing, and no one asks if he’s sure again but he knows they’re watching him. He ignores it.

When they reach the Cardinal’s offices Athos takes Aramis and goes inside to collect Fr Reynard. d'Artagnan sits patiently, ignoring the looks Porthos is shooting at him. They’ll give up soon enough, if he doesn’t give them any reason to suspect him.

He’s been telling himself that it won’t be Fr Reynard; it can’t be, he’s sure of it, surely the man is dead by now? But when Athos and Aramis reappear, he’s not surprised to recognise the figure with them.

Athos waves Fr Reynard towards the fifth horse. “Fr Reynard, Porthos and d'Artagnan.”

Reynard settles himself in the saddle and looks curiously at d'Artagnan. “d'Artagnan?”

“That’s my name, Father,” d'Artagnan says as evenly as he can.

He sees the moment Reynard realises who he is; the man’s eyes light up. He doesn’t say anything, though, presumably not wanting the others to realise they know each other.

“If you’re ready, Father?” Athos asks.

“Yes, quite ready,” Reynard agrees, nudging his horse into motion behind him.

d'Artagnan lets himself fall to the back. Two days, perhaps three, to La Rochelle. He can manage that much. Two days is nothing compared to what Reynard has already put him through.

He can do this.

They ride for several hours before Athos calls a break; Reynard’s been looking increasingly uncomfortable. “You should speak up when you need a break, Father.”

“Oh, I didn’t want to be a bother.”

d'Artagnan does not snort.

“… _tagnan_.”

“What?” he says, startled.

“Take Fr Reynard to the stream,” Athos says, watching him carefully.

d'Artagnan looks around, can’t find any way to get out of it, and nods. “This way, Father.”

Reynard stumbles a couple of times. d'Artagnan makes no move to help him until he realises Aramis is watching; then he extends an arm, concentrating intently on not cringing away from the priest’s touch.

“Thank you, young man,” Reynard says, holding on far more tightly than he needs to. “So kind, to help an old man.”

They’re out of sight of the clearing.

“Let me go,” d'Artagnan says through gritted teeth.

“Let you go?” Reynard repeats, in the same mild tone. “Oh, dear. Have we forgotten all our lessons already?”

“I haven’t _forgotten_ anything. Let me _go_.”

His grip only tightens. There’s going to be bruises; d'Artagnan can feel them rising.

“We’re not going to do anything foolish, are we, sweet boy?”

He swallows his instinctive response, because no matter how much he wants it he isn’t a Musketeer yet. “I’m not going to say anything.”

“Good, good. Because you know what will happen if you do.” d'Artagnan is silent; Reynard’s grip tightens impossibly. “You know what will happen if you do.”

“Yes,” he mutters. “I know what will happen if I do.”

Reynard lets go of his arm to pat him on the cheek. d'Artagnan almost jerks away, but he remembers himself in time.

“Good boy,” Reynard says kindly, turning to go back to camp.

d'Artagnan badly wants to take a few moments to collect himself, but the others will come looking for him if he takes too long and he knows he can’t stand up to much questioning right now. He follows Reynard’s footsteps, just as he always used to.

He manages to stay with one of the others for most of the rest of the day, riding with Porthos and helping Aramis collect wood when they stop to camp. He knows they’re looking at him oddly, but no one’s said anything yet, and he’s doing his best to keep up appearances.

He waits until everyone’s settled down before slipping into the trees. He’ll have a couple of minutes before anyone comes after him, it should be just long enough to get himself back together…

“There you are, sweet boy.”

He finds himself plastered against the nearest tree, hoping that…

Reynard appears through the trees, coming towards him.

“I knew you wouldn’t be able to wait,” he says, stopping only when he’s practically pressed up against d'Artagnan. “I knew you’d come out here as soon as you could.”

“Nnn – no,” d'Artagnan protests. “I was just…”

“Just?” Reynard asks, one eyebrow up.

d'Artagnan stares at him helplessly. He can’t tell him what he was really doing, he knows where that leads…

“Just waiting for me, my pretty boy?”

“No…”

There’s a hand on his leg. _There’s a hand on his leg_.

d'Artagnan stares over Reynard’s shoulder, resolutely not paying any attention to what’s going on – at least, no more attention than he needs to make the right noises at the right times. He knows what being silent would cost him.

Eventually Reynard finishes up, leaning against d'Artagnan with a sigh of pleasure. d'Artagnan supports him, still not thinking about it. He can’t afford to think about it. Not yet.

Reynard pats his cheek. “Good. I’m glad to see you haven’t forgotten everything.” He steps away, resettling his clothes. “Oh, and tomorrow, you won’t be quite so hard to get alone, will you, sweet boy?”

“No, Father,” he says automatically.

“Good.”

Reynard goes back to camp. d'Artagnan cleans up unthinkingly, makes sure there’s no sign of anything, and follows him.


	2. Chapter 2

When he goes to relieve Aramis of his watch, the older man is praying, fingers moving along the beads of the queen’s rosary. d'Artagnan looks somewhere over his shoulder as Aramis tells him what he’s seen (nothing) and what he’s heard (nothing) and reminds him that Athos will be taking over in a few hours. d'Artagnan nods along and realises too late that Aramis is watching him, concerned.

“d'Artagnan. Are you – quite well?”

He forces a laugh. He forces himself to meet Aramis’ gaze. “Yes, of course. I’m fine.”

“You can tell me…”

“I’m fine. Aramis. Really.”

Aramis nods, still unconvinced, and pats him on the shoulder. d'Artagnan doesn’t flinch, because he’s not supposed to flinch. “Very well. And you will tell me? If anything happens?”

“You’ll be the very first.”

Aramis doesn’t believe him. d'Artagnan can see it in him. But he’ll go along, for now. d'Artagnan will have to try harder, be better, be more what they’re expecting and less what he is now.

Sadly, in other circumstances, Aramis would be the one d'Artagnan would go to first. If it was anyone else; if it was any other man. But even if he could question a priest, a man of God, he can’t do it to Aramis. Aramis believes so strongly; his faith is so pure. d'Artagnan can’t do anything that would damage that.

Probably Aramis wouldn’t believe him, anyway. No one ever did.

He keeps a perfect, if restless, watch; by the time Athos comes to relieve him he’s checked all the horses’ tack and piled more wood than they could possibly need near the fire. He tells Athos what he’s seen (a fox) and what he’s heard (nothing but the fox and Porthos’ snoring) and meets his gaze the whole time.

He doesn’t sleep, much, and he’s up as soon as seems reasonable, gathering up the water skins and heading down towards the stream.

“d'Artagnan, could you help me?” Reynard calls before he can vanish into the trees.

d'Artagnan goes back, helps him up, supports him through the trees to the stream. Afterwards he cleans himself up, refills the water skins, and goes back to help Porthos with breakfast.

Aramis spends most of the day at Reynard’s side, talking easily about what sounds like religious doctrine. d'Artagnan ignores most of it; he can do that with Aramis, he’s never insulted.

That evening, trying desperately to answer Reynard’s questions, he wishes he’d paid more attention.

“So you not only ignore your priests, you ignore that good man?” Reynard sighs, shakes his head. “He tells me you sometimes don’t even go to church. I thought we’d dealt with that years ago, sweet boy. What happened?”

“I didn’t…” Not for the first time, he wishes he could think of something to say. He can never _think_ when Reynard’s around.

“Didn’t, what? Are you claiming that he’s lying to me?”

“No!”

“So you do ignore him.”

“No…”

“It’s one or the other, sweet boy.”

d'Artagnan struggles for a moment, but there’s only one answer he can give. “He wouldn’t lie to you.” And he wouldn’t; Aramis would never lie to a man of the cloth, no matter what. He _must_ be telling the truth.

d'Artagnan makes a mental note to pay more attention when Aramis talks.

“You know what this means.”

He nods. “A punishment to help me learn.”

“And you know what has to happen first.”

He goes to his knees without thinking about it. “Please, Father, help me to be better.”

“Hmm. Adequate, at best. I’ll allow it to pass this time, but you’ll have to do better next time.”

Then he punishes him.

Afterwards d'Artagnan thanks him as sincerely as he can.

Athos had hoped to make the monastery within three days, but Reynard is not used to riding. They have to travel more slowly and take more breaks than they’re used to.

d'Artagnan can’t decide which is better, riding or taking breaks. He’s sore all over and riding is torment; but whenever they stop, Reynard gets him away from the others, and that might be worse. He can’t decide.

He pays attention when Aramis is talking. He looks people in the eye. He jokes as they’re used to. And he helps Reynard into the trees or down to the stream or behind the bushes, wherever he’s chosen.

Aramis asks if he’s all right. Porthos asks if he’s all right. Athos watches.

He tells Aramis he’s all right. He tells Porthos he’s all right. He meets Athos’ gaze.

Aramis starts expanding the theological discussions to camp time as well. Porthos begins escorting Reynard to and from the stream, trees, or bushes. It’s kindly meant, but d'Artagnan wishes they wouldn’t. When Reynard does manage to get him alone, it’s worse than ever.

“What have you said to them?” Reynard’s deliberately digging into bruises.

“Nothing!”

“I’ve seen you talk with them!”

“Not about –“ He chokes himself off, because he’s never been able to decide what to say about this.

“So it’s just a coincidence that they’re trying to keep us apart?”

“I didn’t say anything,” he whispers. “I know what will happen if I do.”

“I’m glad to hear it.” Reynard’s grip tightens and d'Artagnan goes to his knees. “You remember what happened when you tried, don’t you?”

He nods.

“ _Tell_ me, stupid!”

“They didn’t – believe there was anything wrong, and I was whipped for saying those things about you, and no one would deal with my father for almost a year.”

“No, they wouldn’t, would they?” Reynard touches his shoulder, traces the almost-invisible scar there. “What do you think would happen this time? No father now – probably they’d just throw you out of the Musketeers.”

d'Artagnan doesn’t shudder, because he’s not allowed to move.

“That would be terrible, wouldn’t it? Everything you’ve worked for?” Reynard pets him gently, running a hand through his hair. “Thrown out in disgrace? Don’t worry. I won’t let that happen, so long as you behave. I’ll make sure they don’t dismiss you.”

“Thank you.” Although he’s not quite sure what he’s thanking Reynard for, but there has to be something; Reynard always has his best interests at heart, he’s always helping him and looking after him.

The grip on his hair tightens suddenly, jerking his head back until he gasps. “Is that how you show your gratitude?” Reynard asks, sounding disappointed.

He lets go, and d'Artagnan shows his gratitude.

“Better,” Reynard says with a sigh afterwards. “But still, I shouldn’t have had to tell you.”

d'Artagnan immediately begs for a punishment to help him learn.

“Make them stop,” Reynard orders when he’s finished.

“Yes, Father,” d'Artagnan agrees.

Reynard goes back to camp. d'Artagnan goes to the stream, cleans up, and follows him.


	3. Chapter 3

The next time Porthos goes to help Reynard, d'Artagnan steps in. “I don’t mind,” he says (smiling) (meeting Porthos’ eyes).

“You’re cooking,” Aramis reminds him.

d'Artagnan half turns (pay attention to Aramis when he talks). “It just has to cook; it’ll be a few minutes. Plenty of time for me to help Father Reynard.”

Aramis doesn’t believe him. Porthos doesn’t believe him. Athos is watching him.

“Father Reynard was the priest in Lupiac when I was young.” Dangerous, dangerous, don’t say too much! “I’ve been enjoying talking to him, when we’ve had the chance.” (smile) (eye contact) (pay attention to Aramis)

“You haven’t mentioned that before,” Athos notes.

“I didn’t think of it.” (smile) (eye contact)

“So who is going to help me?” Reynard asks politely.

d'Artagnan steps forward automatically and then hesitates, looking at Porthos. He’s waved on and they head through the trees down to the stream.

The blow to the head knocks him off his feet; he wasn’t expecting it. He stays down.

“What did you tell them that for? Idiot!”

“I had – it explains –“

“No. That was _wrong_ , boy.”

d'Artagnan immediately apologises, words tripping over themselves.

“Can’t even get that right,” Reynard says in disgust. “Better –“

“d'Artagnan?” Porthos calls from somewhere through the trees.

Reynard is on his knees beside d'Artagnan by the time Porthos reaches them. “Thank God,” he says, apparently genuine. “He slipped and fell, and I can’t help him on my own.”

Porthos crouches beside them, touching d'Artagnan’s chin to turn his face. “Nasty bruise coming up,” he notes. “Hit something on your way down?”

“I don’t remember.” He can’t smile, but he keeps eye contact. “I must have.”

Porthos studies him for a moment before looking up at Reynard. “You’ll excuse me, Father, I need to get d'Artagnan back to Aramis. I’ll come back in a moment and help you.”

“Of course, you must help him,” Reynard agrees, but the look he gives d'Artagnan would make him shudder if he was allowed.

Porthos helps d'Artagnan back to the camp and sits him down. There’s some talking over his head; he thinks one of the voices is Aramis’ (pay attention when Aramis is talking!) but he can’t focus on it.

Eventually Aramis kneels beside him, touching his chin to tilt his head. “What happened?”

“I fell.”

“I’ve seen plenty of injuries from falls, d'Artagnan. I’ve seen plenty of injuries from fists. This is not an injury from a fall. What happened?”

d'Artagnan’s gaze tracks past him to see Porthos settling Reynard across the camp from them.

Aramis’ grip on his chin tightens, redirecting his attention. “d'Artagnan. Did he hit you?”

“A man of the cloth?” He smiles as best he can. “Why would he do that?”

“A man of the cloth is a man. Tell me what happened.”

The cross on his chest is hanging loose; it catches the sun as he breathes.

“ _d'Artagnan_.”

(smile) (eye contact) (pay attention when Aramis is talking) “I fell, Aramis. That’s all.”

Aramis studies him for a long moment before nodding slowly. “I have a salve that will help. Stay here.”

d'Artagnan stays where he is, watching as Aramis talks briefly to Athos before going to rummage in his saddlebags. Reynard obviously asks after him and is just as obviously rebuffed.

Aramis comes back with a salve that burns when he puts it on and a drink that almost makes d'Artagnan gag at the bitter taste. He doesn’t gag, of course. He knows better than that. 

Aramis settles next to him, talking quietly about nothing in particular. d'Artagnan listens carefully (pay attention when Aramis is talking) but he finds himself missing moments, eyes closing without his control, and eventually he realises what’s happening. Aramis doesn’t even look sorry when he drifts off.

He wakes some time later. Aramis is sitting by the fire, watching him, but he can’t see the others, can’t hear them. There’s only the bedroll he’s lying on; everything else has been packed away.

He sits up abruptly.

“He’s not here,” Aramis says. “Athos and Porthos took him to the monastery; we’re less than a day from there now. I didn’t want you moving, and none of us wanted you anywhere near him.”

“I should…” d'Artagnan looks around blankly.

“You’re not going after him. We’re starting back for Paris as soon as you’re able. Porthos and Athos will catch up to us.”

“No, Aramis, I need…”

“Whatever hold Father Reynard had on you, it doesn’t matter now.”

“He didn’t have a hold on me.”

Aramis comes to crouch next to him, touching his chin. “This is a hand print, d'Artagnan. He struck you. He was hurting you. I’ve seen the bruises.”

“Not _hurting_ me.”

Aramis frowns, studying him. “What was he doing, then?”

(smile) (eye contact) “Helping me. Teaching me.”

“Teaching you what?”

He almost loses the smile; he does lose the eye contact, because he can’t bear to watch Aramis’ face when he hears this. “How to behave. How to be better.”

“Better at what?”

“A better person.”

Aramis is silent for several heartbeats. “Was Father Reynard your priest in Lupiac, d'Artagnan?”

“Yes.”

“Did he teach you then, too?”

“Yes,” d'Artagnan mumbles. Now, now Aramis will turn away, because what kind of fool needs so much teaching? Anyone should be able to grasp these things far more quickly than he did.

“Did anyone know he was doing this?”

“Doing…what?”

“Hu – teaching you.”

“Everyone knew.”

“Everyone knew,” Aramis repeats slowly. “Your father knew.”

d'Artagnan very badly wants to move away from him. “Of course.”

“And no one tried to stop him.”

“Stop…he’s a priest, Aramis.”

“He’s a man, d'Artagnan.”

Aramis’ cross glints in the sunlight. d'Artagnan watches it to avoid looking at Aramis’ face. “I tried – I complained, once.”

“And?” Aramis asks steadily.

“I was lying. I was very ungrateful. No one would deal with my father for almost a year; the farm almost collapsed. Father Reynard could have refused to deal with me, but he kept teaching me. He was very kind.”

“He was hurting you, d'Artagnan.”

“He was very kind,” d'Artagnan repeats, and then he stops answering Aramis’ questions.

Aramis stops trying, after a while. d'Artagnan eats what he’s given, packs up when he’s told to, mounts and rides back towards Paris. He does it all in silence.


	4. Chapter 4

The others haven’t caught up by the time they stop for the night. Aramis is clearly worried about that. d'Artagnan offers to take a watch, but he’s not surprised when Aramis refuses. Instead he curls up on his side, watching the fire and listening as Aramis wanders back and forth along the perimeter.

He must have fallen asleep at some point, because when he wakes up the others are whispering fiercely nearby. He lies still, eyes closed, and listens.

“…closed order,” Athos is saying intently. “For priests with – proclivities. Richelieu _knew_ about this.”

“At least he won’t get to anyone else,” Aramis murmurs. He sounds tired. (pay attention when Aramis is talking) "And if we're lucky, he did not know specifically. Only generally."

“He said anything?” Porthos.

“Not much. He doesn’t seem aware that he’s been hurt. No, that’s not – he knows he’s been injured. He doesn’t seem to understand that he shouldn’t have been.”

“How can he not…”

“He thinks Reynard was teaching him. Being kind.”

Silence for several moments.

“Should’ve killed him,” Porthos mutters.

d'Artagnan does not flinch.

“He said that he tried to speak up, as a boy, and was shunned by the people of Lupiac. They all but delivered him into that man’s hands.”

“Why would –“

“Because he is a priest,” Athos says, “and a man of God.”

“Something like that,” Aramis agrees.

He makes a startled noise; d'Artagnan almost moves, but Athos says “Keep that hidden, for now.”

“Why would…oh, _damnit_. Yes. I hadn’t thought of that.”

“And stop getting on his case on Sundays,” Porthos adds.

“Yes,” Aramis agrees with a sigh.

Athos’ voice drops as he gives orders; Aramis comes to lie down near d'Artagnan, Athos or Porthos goes on guard, Porthos or Athos settles across the fire. d'Artagnan lies exactly where he is without moving.

The others are up before him the next morning; he lies still as long as he dares, waiting to see if anyone’s going to tell him to move. They’re fairly quiet as they move around the camp, more quiet than they normally would, and he almost wants to shout at them to stop tiptoeing around him.

Eventually Aramis comes to wake him. d'Artagnan wonders vaguely if they’ve realised (pay attention when Aramis is talking) that he’s not ignoring Aramis, or if they just think he’s more comfortable with him.

“d'Artagnan, wake up,” Aramis says. He’s not touching him. “You need to eat before we leave.”

d'Artagnan sits up obediently. Something is different about Aramis, and he can’t figure it out at first; it’s only when the older man turns that he realises. “Your…”

“Pardon?”

d'Artagnan gestures towards his chest. Aramis lifts a hand as though to touch the cross that’s no longer hanging there. “Ah. Well.”

“Don’t do that,” d'Artagnan murmurs.

“It’s a very small thing to do.” Aramis touches his leathers, showing d'Artagnan the shape of the cross inside. “You could have asked.”

“Faith comforts you. I don’t want to take that from you.”

“You haven’t taken anything from me, my friend.”

d'Artagnan looks down. “I haven’t – faith isn’t the problem.”

“It’s men of faith?”

“Yes,” he admits. “Mostly. I know you aren’t – I’m sorry.”

“I’m sorry if I have upset you.”

“You haven’t meant to,” d'Artagnan says carefully.

Aramis studies him for a moment. “Do you understand that he should have not done that to you?”

d'Artagnan considers it for some time. “Sort of,” he says finally. He does understand, in theory, that children should not be hurt the way he was, but his training runs deep and it’s harder for him to accept that _he_ should not have been hurt that way.

“Sort of is enough for now.” Aramis pushes to his feet; d'Artagnan follows. “Try to tell us if we make you uncomfortable, yes?”

“Yes.”

“Good.”

Porthos passes him a bowl, grinning at him. Athos doesn’t speak, but he nods when he meets d'Artagnan’s eyes.

d'Artagnan spends some time not smiling and not meeting their eyes as they travel, though he doesn’t quite manage to ignore Aramis. That will come, he’s sure. The others are making sure he sees them coming before they touch him, but that’s the only thing that’s changed about their behaviour. That helps him.

He’ll have to tell them at some point, he knows. But it doesn’t have to be today. Today he can just ride with his brothers and not worry about it. Today he can be free.

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt:
> 
> As a child d'Artagnan was abused by the local priest and was either not believed or blamed for it by family/friends/priest. The priest was extremely manipulative of d'Artagnan which has left its mark.
> 
> Many years later he has made his peace with God but not the men of God. Although his head knows that Aramis is nothing like that priest, sometimes his heart doesn't and he will see the cross Aramis wears and/or Aramis will say something that brings it all back and makes it difficult for him. To complicate matters the priest turns up in Paris with the Cardinal.
> 
> Now Treville has a mission for them - The four of them are to escort the same priest to a monastery out in the middle of no where. They are informed/determine they are escorting him more to prevent him causing any further embarrassment to the church than is own protection. But the mission takes its toll on d'Artagnan who starts to unravel at the seams...
> 
> Bonus stuff  
> d'Artagnan still blames himself deep down and is thoroughly ashamed  
> Set before he becomes a Musketeer  
> d'Artagnan makes his peace with Aramis by the end  
> The Musketeers figure it out eventually  
> Three pissed off, protective Musketeers (triply pissed off Aramis)  
> The priest drops comments and/or continues being a manipulative git towards d'Artagnan  
> Though he may flounder along the way, d'Artagnan comes out on top by the end (with a little help from his friends :)


End file.
